


One Night in B-Mart

by oldandnewfirm



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 09:41:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7569265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldandnewfirm/pseuds/oldandnewfirm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Much to Killua’s chagrin, Alluka’s great at making new friends. Just this once, Alluka's kind of regretting her luck in that department too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Night in B-Mart

The magazines had made the whole thing sound so easy: just walk into the store, pick a few things off the shelf, and you’d be halfway to looking as glamorous as the models that graced the publication’s glossy pages rather than like a fifteen year old girl whom puberty had decided to grace with enough pimples to fill an entire connect-the-dots books.

What the magazines had failed to mention was the fact that the cosmetics section was a sprawling land of endless, baffling possibilities, one Alluka now realized she was painfully unequipped to navigate.

She stared down a row of foundations with helpful names like Honey Butter, Venetian Sunrise, and Winter’s Grace. Oh yeah, people told her all the time her skin had a lovely "Winter’s Grace" glow to it. After glancing between the shelf and her wrist several times, she reached for a bottle labeled Warm Almond. It was…close enough? Probably? Or was she more of a Broadway Lights?

A sudden, prickling unease drew her attention from her dilemma to the end of the isle, where a man was watching her with intense interest. She was no stranger to male attention at this point— especially when Killua wasn’t around to glare down any boys who paid her more than passing notice— but there was a searching quality to the man’s observation that put her on edge. When their eyes met his flashed with recognition, though Alluka was certain she’d never seen him before in her life. He smiled, then, turning her earlier prickle into a full shiver.

“So many choices, aren’t there?” the man asked.

“Uh— yeah.” She laughed, a touch nervously. “I’m kind of new to all this. It’s a little overwhelming.”

“Ah,” said the man, “perhaps I can help? I’ve picked up a few things here and there, over the years.”

He brandished the package of eyeliner he’d been holding between his fingers as if offering proof of his knowledge. Conflicting instincts warred within her: the desire to be friendly, and something more primal, something that wanted her to get very, very far away from the thing with golden eyes and sharp teeth. She regretted, not for the first time, that she hadn’t invested in nen training the way her brother and his friends had.

“Um,” she said. “T-thank you but, I think I’ve got it.”

“Oh? Very well, then.” He seemed about to return his attention to the display before him when he paused, glanced sideways at her, and said, “But you should know that if you were planning to buy that foundation for yourself, it’s the wrong color for you.”

She squinted down at the bottle. Crap, he was right, wasn’t he? Okay, “Broadway Lights” it was, then. Maybe. Or was that too yellow…?

“May I make a suggestion?”

She jumped. The man loomed over her, now, as if he’d always been standing there. His shopping basket swayed violently in his grip, the only indication of his abrupt journey from the other end of the isle. A nen user then, or if not, at least far more powerful than a normal human being.

Dread filled her gut. Killua’s name hovered on her tongue but went no further; though the man’s expression was pleasant, that same primal instinct told her that sudden movements could nonetheless prove fatal. She tightened her grip on her own basket— little good it would do her in a fight, but it was better than nothing— and braced for him to grab her, to strike, to do something. But he just tilted his head and continued watching her— waiting, she assumed, for her answer.

“Um. Sure?” she squeaked out at last.

He pointed to a bottle three shades to the left of the one she was holding. “Your undertones are rather neutral, I think, leaning slightly cool. You’d be better served with something in the pink range than the golden one.”

“Really?”

He nodded.

Hesitantly, she plucked up the bottle he’d indicated and held it against her skin. At first glance it seemed too pale, but the more she looked at it the more she realized that the color visually blended with her tone far better than her first choice had.

“It’s harder to find an exact match with drugstore brands, of course,” the man continued. “If you intend to wear foundation regularly you might want to visit one of the higher end stores; the product lines there are generally more accommodating.”

Of all the things she’d been expecting from this exchange, sincere advice wasn’t one of them. She relaxed a fraction in spite of herself, and gave him a more critical look. Though he still gave off major weirdo vibes, up close there was nothing _that_ threatening about him, appearance-wise. He was tall and brawny, sure, but lots of guys were, and said guys generally didn’t have bright pink hair and flawless eyeliner that made them look like an undercover rock star. He carried himself like one, too— everything from his posture, to the tilt of his head, to his lingering smile showed ease and confidence, and awareness of the effect he was having on her combined with a total lack of concern over it.

He almost reminded her of Gon, she realized, except the air around Gon didn’t sizzle with danger. That, and Gon wasn’t quite so…attractive, in a bad boy kind of way.

She wished she was wearing foundation now, to hide the flush her cheeks were surely sporting. She dropped the foundation into her basket and dithered for a moment. Then, she offered a slight, hesitant smile of her own and said, “Thanks. Um…you wouldn’t happen to know anything about lip gloss and mascara, would you?”

“Hm,” he tapped his chin with a nail that was honed and polished like a blade. “I could make some recommendations. Let’s look, shall we?”

* * *

 

“Well, that’s done,” Killua said as he swiped the last item off the shopping list on his phone. Now to find Alluka and get the hell out of here. B-Mart in the wee hours was a beacon for crazies, and the less time she spent exposed to them, the better.

He made his way back to the cosmetics section of the store, where she’d said he was likely to find her once he was done. He was halfway through it before her voice— always a little too loud, as the concept of “inside voice” meant nothing to someone who’d spent their formative years isolated in an underground cell— rang out from two aisles down.

“—Well I don’t fight, but…my life can get pretty active. Maybe I should do waterproof….”

Killua abandoned the cart and cleared the distance in a blink, rounding the corner of the aisle to see Alluka and a man he couldn’t quite make out from this angle crouched on the floor, examining the bright rows of product. The man responded to Alluka’s statement but Killua didn’t hear it, for his mind had registered three things in rapid succession:

One, that Alluka was talking to a stranger— something he’d specifically warned her against, knowing that anyone they met might be one of his brother’s unwitting spies. Two, that the stranger was male, broad, and handsome— a perfect match for the kind of creeps who’d taken an interest in his sister during her earlier years in the world and whose interest, alarmingly, she was starting to return. And three— Gold eyes. Pink hair. A smug, self-satisfied expression that bloomed as soon as Killua and the stranger locked gazes over the top of Alluka’s head. In a flash Killua’s nen flared, and he snarled.

“Hisoka! What the hell are you doing to my sister? Get away from her!”

Hisoka rose in one smooth, lazy movement. “Killua! Were you here too? What a pleasant surprise. It’s been too long.”

Alluka, still crouched, looked between the two of them with rising alarm. “This is— you’re Hisoka?”

Hisoka glanced at her and flashed one of his sharp, predatory smirks. “Why Alluka dear, you sound frightened. But we were having such a lovely time just a moment ago!”

“If you don’t leave right now—” Killua said.

“Killu? It’s all right.” Alluka clambered to her feet, slowly, in such a way that she was facing him while also keeping Hisoka well within her periphery. “He was just helping me with all…this.” She gestured to indicate the entire aisle.

“What? How could _he_ possibly help _you_?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” Hisoka said mildly, “but I have been known to wear makeup from time to time.”

Killua puffed up, prepared to deliver a scathing retort, only to find himself at a loss for one. Scowling, he shifted tact. “Did Illumi send you? Or am I supposed to believe that you just happened to be here at the same time we are?”

“That unwavering paranoia must be how you’ve managed to dodge your brother this long. But I’m afraid that tonight it’s misplaced. I’m here for my own reasons entirely.” He held up his shopping basket. “Hair dye. Eyeliner. Milk.”

He shook the basket as if to prove the existence of the aforementioned items. It was probably true that if Hisoka was here to start trouble he’d have sought Killua out directly rather than wasting time with Alluka— unless, of course, his goal was to use her as a hostage to goad him into a fight. But if that were the case, Hisoka would have challenged him as soon as he entered the aisle.

And that was another thing. While Killua wouldn’t pretend to understand Hisoka well, past experience suggested that he prized the artistry of combat almost as much as he did the violence, and there was nothing artistic about duking it out in a B-Mart Super Center in the middle of the night. Hell, Hisoka didn’t even seem dressed for a fight. In a faded band t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers, one could almost mistake him for a normal human being.

Killua lowered his nen, but not his guard. “Fine. So you’re shopping. Alluka, do you have everything you need?”

“Um— yeah, I think so.”

“Good. We’re leaving. _Now._ ”

After throwing one more nervous glance at Hisoka, Alluka started towards Killua— but paused, suddenly, and turned back. Killua let out a scoff of protest that, predictably, went ignored.

“Thank you,” she said. “You, uh. Really were helpful.”

“It was no trouble,” he said. Then, his look turned sly and he leaned closer. “If you ever need more assistance, feel free to visit me at Heaven’s Arena…”

Tendrils of electricity erupted around Killua, lashing the empty air. Alluka couldn’t see nen, but that didn’t stop her from snapping her focus to him and wincing as his malevolence warped the atmosphere around them.

“I think I should go before my brother kills you,” she said.

“A pity,” Hisoka said, straightening, and whether he meant Alluka leaving or the loss of a potential fight, neither sibling stuck around long enough to find out.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a fun little vignette to help me get the hang of voices/personalities. Thoughts on my success there are most welcome!


End file.
